


We Run Like Clockwork

by bluemandycat



Category: Archvillain Series - Barry Lyga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Everyone is Badass, I haven't decided yet, M/M, Mike is a robot, maybe they will though, there maybe will be relationships but they will not be the focal point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:42:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemandycat/pseuds/bluemandycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steampunk AU</p>
<p>Mike wakes up in a desert, with no memories. He stumbles into a partnership, a rivalry, and a partnership-rivalry. Accompanied by his partners/rivals, can he find his place in the world and maybe right some wrongs along the way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so I've been meaning to post this for a while, but finals were pretty draining. Anyway, here's this steampunk au! Enjoy!

            It was a long fall down. Or, at least, it had been a long fall down. His entire body was banged up, and he guessed that he had fallen off of something (not that there was anything in this _freaking_ desert). He wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been unconscious, either, but judging by the state his arm was currently in, the temperature of his body, and the way the buzzards were circling overhead, he had to have been out for at least an hour.

 

            The arm was a pretty big shock, at first. He was almost positive that he was human, but the mess of gears and metal that was currently his right arm said otherwise. One thing was for certain: he was definitely not able to fix it. Just looking at his innards made his head hurt, in both an “I have no idea how I work” way and an “I am looking at my own parts” way.

 

            He squinted at the dark dot on the horizon. The desert made it easy for him to see the figure coming towards him, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, he was stuck out in the desert, and help would only be welcome, considering the state of his arm. On the other, he was a sitting duck for any lowlife or scavenger who happened to come near. He supposed that the pros and cons didn’t really matter, as the figure was going to come to him no matter his opinion on it. He wasn’t going to be moving anywhere anytime soon without help.

 

            As the figure got closer, he began to realize that it was not, in fact, a person walking towards him, but rather a vehicle traveling on spindly legs. Luckily, the vehicle was traveling alone, rather than with a caravan, which indicated that it was either a scout for a bigger settlement, or a nomad. He still couldn’t defend himself very well, but at least he didn’t run the risk of being surrounded. The vehicle stopped every couple of minutes, and seemed to be peering around. Occasionally, it would stop for a full five minutes, and a smaller, person-sized figure would dart out quickly and carry something back onto the vehicle. Then, it was back on a course for him. Mike hoped that the things that the figure was grabbing were not immobile whatever-he-was-es.

 

            The thing moved fast for a vehicle of its size, and on it’s legs it looked almost like an insect. It was only about five hundred feet away now, and was idle. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a hatch on the bottom opened, a ramp slid out, and the figure ran out towards him. They crouched to pick up a couple of gears that had rolled away from his body.

 

            “Hey!” he yelled, because he had to defend himself somehow. “Get out of here!”

 

            The person jumped back a little bit. “Oh my god, you’re alive,” they said, and ran over to his head, completely ignoring his wish for them to get out of there. “Are you okay?”

 

            He studied the person up close. It was a girl, with red hair in pigtails tied back with a headband, and freckles all over her face. She wore armor made out of a dull silver metal, and had a hammer (or was it a mallet?) strapped to her back that was so big he didn’t know how she could carry it around without hurting herself.

“Are you okay?” she asked again. He realized he was staring.

 

            “Uh, I guess. I mean, except for the arm.” He wiggled his mangled arm to demonstrate. The broken flesh-colored casing slid partway off his arm, and a gear rolled loose. Oof.

 

            “Don’t move it! You’ll make it worse.” He was suspicious. She had maybe been trying to kill him like three seconds ago, and now she was acting all nice? It didn’t add up.

 

            “Were you trying to dismantle me?” he asked, not sure if he was overstepping his bounds.

 

            “Yeah,” she said nonchalantly, crouching down to pick up a few loose mechanisms.

            “Oh.” He wasn’t sure how to react to that.

 

            “But luckily for you, I have a conscience. I don’t cannibalize automatons that are still alive.”

 

            “Automaton?” The word felt foreign to him.

 

            “Yeah. I mean, you check all the boxes. Gears and mechanisms, lying out in the middle of the desert, that whole jazz. I’m betting someone just abandoned you. Do you remember any names? A friend, or a creator, or something?”

 

            He racked his brains. “No, actually. Now that you mention it, I pretty much only remember lying in the sun.”

 

            “Do you know your own name?”

 

            “I don’t know if I ever had one.”

 

            She smiled. “Well, okay. I’m going to call you Mike.”

 

            He grinned back, feeling better. “Mike it is, then.”

 

            She extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mike. I’m Mairi, professional raider and lowlife.”

 

            He reached out and shook it. “You seem awfully nice for a lowlife.”

 

            “Yeah, well, you try to be the best person you can be, regardless of your situation in life.” She furrowed her brow. “So, Mike, if you have nowhere you need to go, do you have any preference on where you’d like to go?”

 

            He shrugged. “All I really want to do is get my arm fixed.” Mike was okay with sticking with Mairi, for now. She had seemed genuine when she said that she didn’t dismantle living automatons, and besides, she had already given him a name. That practically made their alliance official.

 

            Mairi’s eyes lit up, and she started moving Mike’s parts around. “Oh, well I’m going that way anyways. Let’s load your scattered parts into my arachnamotive, and then I’ll take you to the best mechanic I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Mairi pay a visit to the mechanic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 2 is up! Happy easter everybody!

            It was about a two-hour ride to “the best mechanic I know.” During that time, Mike asked as many questions as he could, so he didn’t look like an idiot in front of the mechanic. Unfortunately, they made him look like an idiot in front of Mairi, who was steering the arachnamotive. Through her answers, Mike learned that most people didn’t live close together (she didn’t know or care why), and arachnamotives were best for traveling long distances, as they didn’t burn as much fuel as trucks. Some people did travel in trucks, but according to her they were “brash showoffs that didn’t care about anything except for following some warlord.” When he asked her about these warlords, she said, “Trust me, you’ll know one when you see one,” and refused to talk more about the matter.

 

            “Okay, so why do you carry around that big hammer?” Mike asked, trying to keep his arm from spilling parts every time the vehicle jolted (an impressive feat, considering that it moved very suddenly, like a spider crawling).

 

            Mairi made a hard turn towards a vaguely building-shaped smudge on the horizon, causing Mike to clutch at his arm. “First of all, it’s a mallet, not a hammer. Those are two different things.” _No they’re not_ , Mike thought, but didn’t vocalize it. “But to answer your question, I carry it around so if somebody tries to take my stuff, I can brain them. People tend to go away if you have a big hammer and a willingness to use it.” Mike shivered. If Mairi betrayed him, he would _not_ fancy fighting her.

 

            All of a sudden, Mairi stopped the vehicle. “We’re here!” she exclaimed. Mike shivered. These things moved _fast_. Mairi opened up the hatch on the bottom of the arachnamotive and lowered the ramp. Then, she grabbed Mike’s loose parts (which she had helpfully put into a bag before they left) and a bag of scrap parts (which Mike assumed she had cannibalized from dead automatons, though he didn’t ask), and raced down the ramp onto the floor. Mike followed her down, careful not to spill any more parts.

 

            Outside, he found himself staring at a lone building overgrown with ivy, which was a bit of a shock in the desert. A sign above the industrial-looking door read AZURE AVENGER AUTOMATONS AND ARACHNAMOTIVES, but someone had spray painted a line through AZURE AVENGER with blue paint, and wrote underneath it, in messy letters, _B_ L _U_ E _F_ R _E_ A _K_.

 

            “Blue Freak?” Mike asked.

 

            Mairi, who was raising the ramp, answered with a snort, “That’s my friend’s nickname. He doesn’t exactly have the best reputation around here. Not that he cares. But the graffiti bothers him, because it disrupts the alliteration. He can’t be bothered to get out of his lab and clean it off, though.”

 

            “And what’s with the ivy?” This was, after all, the desert.

 

            “My friend has the double threat of his own water source and a flair for the dramatic. Now c’mon. Let’s go say hi.”

 

            Mike shivered and followed her to the doors. What kind of eccentric person was he about to meet?

 

            “Hello?” called Mairi, pushing open the door. Mike peered around.

 

            It was…brighter than it looked from the outside. Machine parts littered every available surface, and in some places spilled onto the floor. The ceiling was high, and ropes and pulleys suspended large machines from it. Mike recognized a couple of them as arachnamotives, like Mairi’s, but others were strange and animal-like. Mike wondered where this mystery person actually lived in this mess of a workshop.

 

            “I know you’re in here, dude! You never leave!” Mairi yelled into the depths of the workshop.

 

            There was a long silence, and then a voice rang out. “I’m in the back!” it yelled. Mairi headed into the depths of the workshop with her bags over her shoulders, and Mike followed her, slightly afraid.

 

            Mairi guided him past a machine dangling from the ceiling that looked suspiciously serpentine, to the back, which was surprisingly clear, compared to the rest of the workshop. It also looked a lot homier. There was a kitchenette on the back wall, with a table (that was covered in parts like everything else, but still) and chairs pushed to the side. In the corner, a little ways off, there was a makeshift bedroom, with curtains around it that were slightly pushed open.

 

            Taking up most of the space in the back, however, was an arachnamotive, like Mairi’s. Unlike Mairi’s, however, it looked brand new, and way more high-tech. There was a pair of legs and the edge of a wheeled creeper sticking out from under the belly of the machine.

 

            Mairi dumped her bags down, folded her arms, and said, “Hey, weirdo. You gonna say hi?”

 

            The creeper rolled out from under the machine and a kid popped up. Mike flinched at the sudden movement.

 

            Surprisingly, the kid was kind of small, assuming he was Mike’s age. He had black hair that was slightly disheveled, presumably from being under the arachnamotive. He wore a white t-shirt and a spiky cap over one shoulder, and axle grease covered both his skin and his clothes. He grinned and moved a pair of bronze goggles off of his eyes and onto his forehead, revealing gray eyes, complete with eye bags that made him look like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

 

            Mairi held out her arms. “C’mon, dude, do I get a hug or what?”

 

            The kid rolled his eyes. “I saw you like three days ago,” he said, but walked over anyways and hugged her. Mike fidgeted, not knowing what to do. When they finally broke free, the kid turned towards him and looked him over. “And who is this?” he said. “Some boyfriend of yours?”

 

            Mike felt his face grow hot, but Mairi just laughed. “Kyle, this is Mike, an automaton. I found him in the desert with his arm all destroyed. Thought maybe you could help him out.” She turned to Mike. “Mike, this is Kyle Camden, AKA the Azure Avenger, AKA the Blue Freak, AKA my best friend.”

 

            Kyle scoffed. “We are not best friends. We have a working relationship.”

 

            “Oh yeah, we had a working relationship at age 6.” Mairi stage-whispered to Mike, “Kyle’s not great at emotional attachments.”

 

            “I heard that,” said Kyle. He took a step towards Mike. “So Mairi found a poor broken automaton in the desert and decided to rescue him? Typical. Mairi’s always been empathetic like that,” he said to Mike. Mike felt himself bristle.

 

            Mairi sucked in a breath. “Can you help us or not, Kyle?”

 

            Kyle stepped closer and grabbed Mike’s arm with both hands. He peered at the insides, occasionally probing a gear or cog with surprising gentleness. After a long time, he sighed. “Yeah, I can fix this.” He made eye contact with Mike. “You are _complicated_. Thankfully, you are not as complicated as my stuff, or I wouldn’t be able to help you.” He cleared a space on his table and then motioned for Mairi to bring the bag of parts over. While she was doing that, he turned to Mike. “Take off your shirt,” he said.

 

            “What?” yelped Mike, caught off-guard.

 

            At the same time, Mairi exclaimed, “You can’t just ask someone that!”

 

            He cocked his head. “Please take off your shirt?”

 

            “Kyle, that is inappropriate! You barely know each other.”

 

            Kyle folded his arms. “Mairi, Mairi, Mairi. Do you think I am a wizard? I can’t just flail around trying to fix his arm. I have to have a basic knowledge of how he works before I attempt anything. I assure you, it’s not superficial.”

 

            Mike shrugged off his t-shirt (which he hadn’t paid much attention to, until now, mostly because it was pretty uninteresting). Kyle turned around from the table, where he was setting up tools. He whistled under his breath.

 

            “Damn. You are _ripped_. Nice six-pack.” Mike studied his body. Yeah, he supposed he was muscular. Didn’t give that punk permission to comment on it, though. Kyle flashed him a grin. “Okay, that was superficial. I’ll admit that. You mind?”

 

            Mike didn’t want to let this kid get the upper hand. “Not at all,” he said, grinning back. “In fact, I’m quite flattered.” Out of the corner of his eye, Mike caught Mairi shift uncomfortably.

 

            If the kid was bothered that Mike wasn’t affected, he didn’t show it. Kyle crouched down and pressed his ear against Mike’s chest, seemingly listening. After a couple of minutes, he picked himself up and said, “Well, good news. You have a heartbeat. Or something resembling a heartbeat, anyways.”

 

            “Why should I care?” asked Mike. It was just a ticking in his chest, after all.

 

            “Some automatons find it comforting,” piped up Mairi. “Makes them feel more alive.”

 

            “Aha!” Kyle said, his hand brushing over Mike’s back. Mike felt himself shudder involuntarily as a panel opened up on his back. “You know, putting the important mechanisms in the back is an interesting tactical move,” chattered Kyle, as he studied Mike’s insides. “On the one hand, people won’t be expecting you to continue to function after the stomach and chest are injured. On the other, it really gives a whole new light to the expression ‘stabbed in the back.’”

 

            Kyle shut the panel. “Okay, I think I know enough to help you. C’mere.” He guided Mike over to the table, and pulled his arm out into the middle. He then set about the obviously very laborious task of fixing it, occasionally dipping his hand into the bag of parts before going back to poking around.

 

            “Do you always keep it this hot in here?” complained Mairi, crossing over to the table.

 

            “It’s the desert. Don’t like it, go somewhere else,” said Kyle, without looking up.

 

            Mairi gave a light laugh and began shucking off her armor, revealing a peasant blouse and loose corset underneath. She piled the armor pieces neatly on the ground. Mike leaned over. “Be careful,” he said in a low voice. “If that armor stays on the ground too long, I’m pretty sure it’ll end up in an invention.”

 

            Mairi laughed and Kyle looked up. For a second, Mike thought he saw a twinkle in his eye, but then it passed. “If you’re not careful, _you’ll_ end up in an invention,” he said, giving a particularly hard twist with a wrench.

 

            After about ten minutes, Kyle stood up. “Good news, I was able to fix the guts of it,” he said. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. “Bad news, I have absolutely no idea how to fix the shell. It seems to have been cracked somehow, but I can’t fix this material in my forge. So it looks like someone’s getting a bronze arm.” With those words, he ran into the depths of the workshop, presumably to his forge. Mairi sat down at the other chair on the table, that Kyle had just abandoned.

 

            “So, what do you think?” she asked. “Of my friend, I mean.”

 

            Mike racked his brains to find the proper word. “He’s…energetic.”

 

            “Well, that’s to be expected. He’s in his element. Outside of his lab, he’s a completely different person,” said Mairi. Mike wondered what she meant by that.

 

            “Does he like me?” Mike asked. Mairi snorted.

 

            “No. But he doesn’t really like anyone. I’ve known him since I was six, and he barely likes me.”

 

            “Oh.” Mike didn’t know why, but the thought of Kyle not liking him bugged him. He chalked it up to wanting to be sociable, given that he was only the second person Mike had met.

 

            Kyle chose that moment to come running back, clutching both a bunch of bronze parts and his own arm. “I burned myself!” he exclaimed gleefully.

 

            “Oh my god,” huffed Mairi, and she got up to walk over to the freezer. Kyle plopped down in the seat she had just vacated, pulled down his goggles, and began detaching the broken shell from the working parts, and attaching the bronze. Mairi came back from the freezer with a bag of ice, which she pressed on Kyle’s burnt arm. Mike was seriously starting to wonder how Kyle didn’t accidentally kill himself when Mairi wasn’t there.

 

            When Kyle was about halfway through his job, he spoke up. “You know,” he said. “You’re pretty sentient for a weapon.”

 

            “A weapon?” Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

            “What, did you think you were a nannybot? Of course you’re a weapon! When I was poking around, I noticed you have a very powerful core. So you’d be a lot stronger and faster than the average automaton. Powerful cores are typically only given to weapons.”

 

            “Stronger and faster?” As far as Mike knew, he wasn’t any different than a normal human.

 

            Kyle nodded. “Maybe flight-capable, too. I’m not sure. I’d have to do some more poking around.” He soldered a piece on, and then looked up. “The only question is, why would your creator make you sentient? Most people don’t want their weapons to have moral ideologies. Kinda defeats the purpose of having a living weapon.” He flicked his soldering iron off. “There. Test it out.”

 

            Mike raised the bronze arm, and slowly flexed the fingers, working out the stiffness. He ran the fingers of his non-bronze hand over the seam where the bronze met the flesh-looking casing, at the elbow. He had to admit, even though the kid was rude and sarcastic, he was a genius mechanic. Mike couldn’t feel the difference between the two arms.

 

            “All good?” asked Kyle. Mike nodded. “Well, now that that’s taken care of, Mairi, you have any parts to sell me?” asked Kyle.

 

            Mairi nodded. “We can definitely talk parts. But I was hoping that you would invite Mike and I to eat dinner with you. Or, well, me to eat dinner, Mike to sit with us. And we can negotiate afterwards.”

 

            Kyle smiled. “That could be arranged.”

 

            Mairi smiled back. “Great! But maybe, uh, Mike should put on a shirt first.”

 

            Kyle snorted. “Killjoy.” But he threw Mike his t-shirt. Mike put it back on, a little bit self-conscious of how long he had had it off.

 

            “What’s for dinner?” Mike asked.

 

            “Motor oil,” replied Kyle, already walking into the kitchen.

 

            “Knowing him, he’s probably only joking a little bit. I’d better make sure he doesn’t kill anyone,” whispered Mairi, and ran after him. “And let me clean the axle grease off your face!” she yelled. “You look like you were attacked by a leaky arachnamotive!”

 

            “Good! That’s the look I was going for!” Kyle called, his head deep in a cupboard as he pulled out pots and pans.

 

            Mike smiled, and began practicing picking things up with his new arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments/kudos/constructive critisism/wild guessing is appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments/kudos motivate me to write. Not necessary, but definitely motivating. Thanks for reading!


End file.
